Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Craig Morgan

More Trucks Than Cars

 

More Trucks Than Cars

(album: This Ole Boy - 2012)


Out here on the backside of that city limit sign where the world turns two lanes
Pretty girl working at the bank and the fella topping off your tank knows your name
Water tower, power lines, swimming holes rusty old RC cola sign
And county fairs, raise your hands up if you've been there

Where there's biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby
And the starlight's like a streetlight on a summer night.
We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y'all come back again
And pray that our boys come home alive
And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts
Where there's more trucks than cars.

Well, I've been there on the concrete of them big city streets
In my Ford truck, traffic jam in the town square
Told my buddies living up there, good luck
Meanwhile back in Tennessee we're raising our babies and our own green beans
Kicking up dust, come on down when you had enough

Where there's biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby
And the starlight's like a streetlight on a summer night.
We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y'all come back again
And pray that our boys come home alive
And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts
Where there's more trucks than cars.

Where there's biscuits, grits and gravy, your pretty waitress calls you baby
And the starlight's like a streetlight on a summer night.
We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y'all come back again
And pray that our boys come home alive
And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts
Where there's more trucks than cars.
Where there's more trucks than cars.

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?